


The Wrong Crossroads

by etymockery



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book 3: Fire, Drama, Earth Kingdom (Avatar), Ember Island (Avatar), Episode: s02e20 The Crossroads of Destiny, Fire Nation (Avatar), Gen, Invasion, Redemption, Sozin's Comet, Spirit World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymockery/pseuds/etymockery
Summary: Book 3 AU. At the end of "The Crossroads of Destiny" in the Book 2 finale, the lightning bolt from Azula kills Aang, taking away his life and shattering his friends. Struggling with the loss of their dear friend and the world's last hope, Katara, Sokka, and Toph must carry on and defeat Fire Lord Ozai without the help of the Avatar.(Cross-posted on FF.net under etymockery, originally published Aug 23, 2016).





	1. Prologue: The Crossroads of Destiny

Katara took a deep breath and steadied her hands near her chest, making sure to protect her core. She gathered water around her in an octopus formation, ready to grab at the multitude of soldiers surrounding her. Aang had just locked himself into a dome of green crystals. She wasn’t entirely sure what that was all about, but seeing that he had travelled a long way to meet with the guru, she hoped that what he had been working on, what was about to happen, would save them all. The Avatar State was truly the only thing she could think that could get them out of this situation. Surely, they had struggled before, but surrounded by Azula and that traitor Zuko and about one hundred soldiers, she wasn’t blind to the fact that they had little to no chance.

Even with Iroh, the proclaimed Dragon of the West, on their side for whatever reason, she doubted it would get them much further. They were only two people without the Avatar – two people with great power, if she could say so without sounding arrogant, but two people against too many, nevertheless. At best, if Toph managed to join up with them – along with Sokka, she supposed – they might stand more of a chance, but it was still vague at best. 

She continued to hold herself in position as everyone waited in tenseness for someone to make a move. She could only assume that the only reason no one was making a move was for the sheer drama of the moment. No one would move on their side unless Azula told them to, or unless Katara and Iroh attacked. Azula was waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to destroy them all. It definitely was not that she wanted the fight to be fair. Azula was never fair. 

She could have blown them away at this point. Katara and Iroh could have been fighting for their lives right now, but it would distract from the reveal. Azula knew who the real threat was. For all her terrible, terrible characteristics, she was also highly intelligent. She would not get caught up with people as meaningless as Katara, a peasant, or Iroh, the treacherous uncle. Not when the chance to defeat the Avatar was at stake.

And so, there they stood. In tense silence, with only the nearby flowing of the spring in the background along with the heavy breathing. 

Suddenly, a bright light began to shine through the dome. It tilted upward in an intense beam, so blinding that no one could look at it for very long without closing their eyes or turning their heads away.

Bright as the sun, and clearly just as destructive, the beam of light shone through the top of Aang’s dome, breaking apart the green crystals meeting at the top.   
Slowly, Aang rose. His body was bathed in light, his eyes glowing brightly in the recognizable Avatar State. His hands were outstretched forward, floating upward gently and peacefully. Katara immediately perceived the difference from now, and the North Pole. Aang was so much more in control – his body did not rise as a result of a violent rage or deep-seated anger. He rose by the sheer power of his will, and it was at this moment that the true meaning of Aang’s power had hit her.

It was also at this moment that a streak of blue lightning hit Aang. 

Thinking back on this moment, while Katara held back her tears, she probably should have seen it coming. With the surprise and awe that came with Aang’s transformation, she hadn’t considered that others might not be feeling the same. And by others, she meant Azula. 

While everyone else stood stock-still, unable to breathe while Aang rose, Azula had slowly lifted her hands and shot out a bolt of pure lightning.

And with that one action, everything froze for a moment. All the people. Their hands. Their elements. Their eyes. And most importantly, Katara’s heart. 

Aang convulsed in the air for a second, the electricity passing through his body painfully visible, before his agony ended and he plummeted to the ground.

Katara’s heart broke free of its frozen state, only to be immediately replaced with a rapid-fire beating that pounded in her ears and brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t hear anything past the mild roar of her own thoughts, her own anguished cry, “Aang!”, her heavy breathing as she felt on the verge of a panic attack.

She rushed over to catch him in her arms, her tears spilling down her cheeks and onto his face as she gazed down at him in horror and shock. She shook him wildly, turning him over, slapping his cheeks – doing anything she could to prove to her that this wasn’t happening. This _couldn’t_ be happening. If it was, everything was over everyone. Not only would the world’s only chance at some semblance of peace be gone forever, but a truly marvelous human being – a stupidly reckless (brave), childish (innocent), bleeding-heart (caring), odd (wise), _12-year-old kid_ would have been _murdered_. 

And for what? A stupid war? Another terrible moment in Four Nations’ history where some power-hungry imbecile decided it was their turn to rule the world?

It would happen, time and again. People who want to ruin the earth’s balance because of their greed. But what never failed to strike her was the true _loss_. Did these people never consider what they were taking from people? It was never just their lands or wealth or even their freedom. It was their will to live, their innocence. All stripped away in the blink of an eye.

And now, whether the world was aware of it in this moment or not, all their hopes had been stripped away.

Katara struggled to hold herself together, to try and avoid panic, and she looked up at Iroh. Colours were blurring together in her eyes and she couldn’t focus, but she was trying her hardest, because Iroh looked extremely grim and furious and terrified at the same time and she didn’t know how that was possible and simultaneously did know how because that was how she felt, and he was saying something to her that she probably needed to hear if this situation could go any further without resulting in her death too. 

“ – have to go! Katara! You must leave! Take the Avatar and go! I will hold them off!” he was shouting, his resolve staunch and his position steady, despite the slight shaking she could visibly see in his hands. 

Katara nodded hastily, her eyes doing a quick sweep of the room though it was still blurred through her tears. She thought she saw the uncertain faces of over one hundred soldiers, the perhaps conflicted expression of Zuko – not that she cared in the slightest – and worst of all, the smug smirk on Azula’s face. There was absolutely nothing more she wanted to do in this moment than wipe it off with her fists. Instead, she focused all the palpitating emotion inside of her on saving Aang – she could not afford to be thinking of revenge at a time like this – and gathered water around her like a spiral, springing them upwards as she saw large blasts of fire below.

Spiralling, spiralling upwards, she kept going, as far as she possibly could, away from the pits underneath the corrupt excuse of a city. She wasn’t particularly paying attention to where she was going, too focused on getting away, even though she was certain that no one was chasing behind her. She just had to keep going.

Fortunately for Katara, it didn’t matter anyway, seeing that waiting for her in the air – or perhaps looking for her – were Toph and Sokka, atop the back of Appa. 

“Katara! You’re safe!” Sokka cried out in relief, speeding toward her by steering in her direction. “Thank the spirits, I was so worried!”

Slowly, after landing in Appa’s saddle, Katara tilted her head to face him so he could read her expression, see the dried tears on her face. 

Sokka blanched. “What’s wrong? I came in to save the day, as usual, might I add, so you’d think I could get a little more grati – ”

Sokka stopped talking and gaped soundlessly at Katara’s arms, full of Aang. Karara wasn’t quite sure how he hadn’t noticed right away – maybe he was so caught up in the relief of locating his own sister, maybe he assumed it was just an injury – but up close, there was no mistaking the lack of breath, the too-white pallor of Aang’s skin. 

“Is he – okay?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch, clearly trying to avoid the word ‘alive’ for fear that this whole situation would become reality.

“Who – what’s going on?” Toph asked, looking around wildly. “Usually, the only way to get Snoozles to shut up is if there’s something louder that won’t shut up. Why’d we all stop talking? Who’s not okay?”

Katara glanced over at Toph – Toph, who was the same age as Aang – and back at Sokka, desperate, not wanting to say it out loud. 

Sokka cleared his throat hoarsely and said, “It’s Aang. Katara made it out safe, but Aang…he’s not breathing.”

There were a few more moments of silence where Toph was clearly trying to internalize this information, trying not to panic. And even though Toph was only two years younger than her, still a surge of sisterly protectiveness came over Katara, because again, no 12-year-old kid should have to deal with this.

“But – but – your spirit water!” Sokka sputtered suddenly, glancing at Katara’s neck. “Have you tried that yet? That could heal him, right?”

His eyes were wild, urgent, and Toph looked up in hopeful desperation, too.

Katara glanced between them. “I’m not sure if it’ll work now,” she admitted, “he’s – he’s already – he’s not breathing, and there’s no heartbeat. He could already be,” she choked on her own words, “gone.”

“So what, you think it’s better to save it until later?” Toph asked incredulously. “Katara, even if it doesn’t work and we’ve wasted your spirit water, this is the best time as any to use it! What’s the use if the Avatar, the person who’s expected to save the planet, isn’t alive?”

Sokka nodded solemnly. “She’s right, Katara. Worst comes to worst, we’ll take another trip to the North Pole before Sozin’s Comet.”

“Not like they’d expect us to go there again,” he continued, laughing nervously and worriedly. “And forgetting all the emotional strife associated with this right now – if Aang dies – the figurehead of this whole rebellion is lost. All hope is lost. People will just think ‘well, if even the Avatar died, what’s the point?’ and then we’ll have no chance at all.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Katara murmured. “I know you’re right – I just – ” she stopped herself, looking down helplessly at Aang’s body. 

“We know,” Sokka said as calmly as he could. “Please, just try it.”

Katara took a deep breath and tried to focus. She pushed back all the thoughts telling her that it had already been too long, that no amount of healing powers could bring back life to the dead, and drew the spirit water out from the vial hanging on her necklace. Holding the water over the spot on Aang’s spine where the injury was, her hands glowed and the water did too. It glowed so much brighter than regular water, and felt different too. She could feel harmony, balance, a peace that she couldn’t understand given the situation, but she supposed it was the ‘magic’ associated with the spirit water. She poured all her beliefs, all her energy and concentration, into healing the wound, and it glowed brighter than anything she had seen before. She could feel things shifting into place.

And suddenly, it all faded away again. 

Katara, Sokka, and Toph waited with bated breath, staring intently at Aang’s limp body. Despite any difference in beliefs that any of them might have had, they all sat there, hoping and praying as hard as they could, as the seconds ticked by.

And for a few seconds, it seemed like it had worked. The glow was absorbed by the body, perhaps into the wound, and Aang’s body lifted for a few seconds before collapsing on Appa’s back again.

He opened his eyes and looked at Katara, Sokka, and Toph in succession, attempting to sit up.

“Aang!” Katara and Sokka cried out in relief, Toph grinning wildly at his weak heartbeat, presumably.

Aang smiled at them weakly, attempting to sit up, before feeling a terrible seizing in his back. Katara immediately pushed him back gently so that he was lying down in the saddle again. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine now that we know you’re alive again,” she exclaimed excitedly, “it’ll just take a while to heal.”

Aang frowned, grunting as the pain seemed to intensify and spread further. “Katara, I – ”

“I can’t believe it worked! I mean, thank the heavens that it did, it would have been terrible if it didn’t, and we are definitely going to make Azula pay for this…”

“Katara – ”

“Things are still pretty bad, what with Ba Sing Se lost and all, but we’ll come up with a plan, we always do!”

“Katara!”

Katara blinked at Aang, suddenly concerned again by the panicked, choked-off tone to his voice. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I can see the darkness closing in around my eyes,” he gasped, seizing again, “I don’t think it worked!”

All over again, Katara, Sokka, and Toph felt their hearts still and their breathing pick up. 

“Maybe – maybe it’s just a side effect,” Toph put out uncertainly. 

Aang shook his head with what movement he could manage. 

“Healing is never like this,” he pushed out, his voice becoming more faint by the second, “I think I’m – I’m dying!” he said, sounding terrified and defeated. 

Katara rushed over to hold his body in her arms, again trying to calm him down, murmuring “No, no, no you’re not.”

“No matter how many times you say it, it’ll still be true,” he croaked out, looking her in the eyes sadly. “I-I failed everyone. I was supposed to save everyone. Save you. And I’m never going to do that now. It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not!” Katara’s hoarse voice managed. “You couldn’t have foreseen this. You didn’t start the war. It’s their fault. It’s always been! You didn’t fail. You-you brought light into everyone’s lives, stopping to help everyone you could, and more than that, you gave us hope, Aang. And that’s more important than anything, that’s what will carry us through this. Do you hear me?” 

She may have ended up shrieking that last part loudly enough for anyone in surrounding area to have heard and come to attack, but at the moment, no one could bring themselves to care, too stricken over the heartbreaking scene that was taking place right in front of them. 

“Do you hear me?” Katara asked again, this time more softly and her voice wobbling with tears.

“Yes, I hear you,” Aang replied softly. Suddenly, he was wracked with more seizing, more moans unintentionally slipping from his mouth, and convulsions coming upon him. His eyes began to close.

“I-I-I,” he sputtered, struggling to keep them open a bit longer, and eventually settling his gaze on Katara. “I love you.”

And with those final words, his eyes closed, and his body went limp once more, again in Katara’s arms.

Katara, who looked like she couldn’t handle the emotional turmoil of watching her dear friend – her dear friend who loved her, even if she didn’t truly reciprocate – die in her arms for the second time today, went still. There was something so strikingly shattering about watching someone who loved you die in front of you, dying to protect you. Her breathing was heavy but she was quiet, as Appa continued to carry them swiftly through the sky. 

Sokka and Toph looked stricken by the poignant scene as well. They all sat there in quiet for an indefinite period of time, unable to muster up the energy to say or do anything, if there was even any way to properly react to the whole situation at all. 

Eventually, Sokka steered them down to an unpopulated clearing still in the Earth Kingdom, quietly declaring that they all needed some rest. 

No one said anything. No one got angry at him for his suggestion of resting when something so terrible had just occurred. It seemed they were all too tired, too heartbroken to do anything else but listen and agree. And so, they lowered themselves to the ground and set out four – no, three – sets of sleeping gear. Toph didn’t set up her rock-made tent and instead lay down in a sleeping bag, like Sokka did in his own sleeping quarters. Katara, before moving to lie down, carefully took Aang’s body from Appa’s saddle and laid him down on the grass near them, wanting him to be peaceful as well.

Appa nudged Aang’s body with his nose a few times, growing distressed and upset when there was no response. He continued to push Aang gently, perhaps wishing to see the ever-present smile on the boy’s face, his constant jumping around and cheerfulness, even in the dead of night.

Katara stroked his fur a few times, trying to get him to calm down and understand. Seeing that Appa kept trying, even minutes later, Katara sighed, giving up and heading to her own sleeping bag. She figured that Appa would come to his own realization eventually, as they all did. 

Sure enough, perhaps an hour later, as everyone tried to sleep through the heartbreaking sounds of stifled sobs and heavy breathing, Appa let out an earth-shattering wail, a roar that they were sure everyone in the world, at that moment, would have been able to hear.

And perhaps that was the most heartbreaking sound of all.


	2. The (Re-)Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka, Toph, and Katara must keep themselves together and focus on the invasion plan, but it is difficult to do so when they are constantly reminded of who they are missing. Meanwhile, Zuko has to deal with an unpleasant situation upon arrival back in the Fire Nation.

Sokka had trouble looking at the Fire Nation flag for too long. The stark black flame against the soft red only served to remind him of what had been lost. Loss was not new to him – not after his mother – but it hadn’t felt so fresh in a long time. He knew, death happened every day, but after years – quite literally over a century – of war, people had grown accustomed to this way of life, as though preparing for death was as much of a routine as waking up, eating breakfast, and going about their work schedules. 

This was different, however. _This_ – losing the Avatar – losing a _friend_ – stung his eyes with sharp tears, and every time he thought about it for too long, he knew he would lose his composure, so he couldn’t think about it. He wasn’t allowed to, not when there was an invasion to plan and Katara to take care of. She was having more trouble than anyone, which made sense; he knew his sister and Aang had some form of bond he wouldn’t ever be able to comprehend. She was the first to find him alive, and she was the first to see him dead. It was fitting, in a horrific sense, and he knew that Aang must have been grateful to see her face freshly imprinted in his memory before he went, at the very least.

Weeks after Aang’s death did not serve to improve anyone’s mood. It had been exactly seven weeks since that fateful day, when all had changed with the Avatar evanescing out of existence and any source of optimism evanescing out of their group. 

Sokka never realized how much of a positive effect Aang had on them. He had thought the silly, goofy idealism of a twelve-year-old who had missed the entire war and hadn’t grown up in such dire circumstances was amusing, that when he attacked each situation preaching the significance of hope, it was merely because he hadn’t been around long enough to develop a healthy sense of cynicism. He was an entertaining opposite to Sokka’s omnipresent sarcasm and pessimistic mentality, nothing more. 

But Sokka’s negativity, seen as humorous before in light of its contrast to Aang’s comical hope, was now _sharp_ and _acerbic_ and _bitter_. Any comments, any exaggerative remarks that were once the hallmark of his personality – “I guess the Fire Nation will find us and we’ll all just burn to death, but on the bright side, we’ll have cool stories to tell in the afterlife,” Sokka said, in response to Toph asking what they would do if the other Fire Nation ships saw their activity as suspicious – were met with blank, dismal stares and a sudden silence.

So Sokka stopped. His comments weren’t what they needed to hear. He just had to stay determined, focused, and serious – like his father. He was an adult now, and he was at war. 

***

A knock on the door interrupted Sokka, Katara, and Toph mid-discussion. They sat in silence as Hakoda entered the room. 

“Everything okay in here?” Hakoda asked hesitantly. Katara rolled her eyes.

“We’re fine, Dad. Everything’s fine, or haven’t you been around recently?” Katara snapped, sounding annoyed with his presence. 

Hakoda looked startled.

“You’re right, of course, that was a stupid question to ask,” he mumbled, “well, just come out and ask if you kids need anything, alright?” 

“We’re not kids,” Katara muttered, “we know we can do that. So, thanks for telling us, I guess. Now do you mind giving us a little privacy?”

Hakoda merely nodded and shut the door quietly, his footsteps echoing down the ship’s corridor.

“Was that really necessary, Katara? He’s trying his best to deal, just like we all are,” Sokka argued, eyebrows drawn downward disapprovingly.

“Get off my back, Sokka, he knows I didn’t mean anything by it,” Katara said moodily, crossing her arms.

The room fell to silence again, somehow the previous discussion growing unimportant. Sokka remembered the reunion in Chameleon Bay. After that night of fitful sleep after the events in the Crystal Catacombs, Sokka couldn’t bear to look at the depressed looks on Katara and Toph’s faces in the morning when they realized it wasn’t just a horrific dream. For the first time, they looked their age, and they looked scared, like the girls had never looked before. Sokka couldn’t believe he had ever thought women not to be capable fighters or strategists, when looking at everything Katara and Toph had accomplished. They worked so hard to look strong in the face of defeat, bring some pride to their gender, but their exhaustion had finally caught up with them. He knew he had to do something, and quickly; this was no time to give up. Aang wouldn’t want them to, and they couldn’t afford to – not when the world was made up of so much more than just them and their losses, and they couldn’t allow more losses to keep happening. They had fought for a hundred years without the Avatar, and they would have to keep doing so. So he picked himself up and got Katara and Toph onto Appa, and they flew back to his father and the other Water Tribe men. Quickly realizing they wouldn’t be able to fight off all the Fire Nation ships appearing in the bay, they captured one and travelled west, in disguise, through the Serpent’s Pass. Once they collected their allies, Sokka knew working on an invasion plan on the day of the solar eclipse would be their only hope. 

“How do we even know this is even going to work?” Toph blurted out suddenly, looking as moody as Katara. “This whole plan is stupid. Yeah, you heard me, Sokka, it’s stupid! We need the Earth Kingdom armies for a real invasion! You think a ‘ragtag team of our friends and allies from around the Earth Kingdom’,” Toph huffed out mockingly, with harsh, jabbing air quotes, “is going to be enough to defeat Fire Lord Ozai!? You think _Pipsqueak_ and _The Duke_ can hold back Azula? Huh?”

Sokka stared at her. 

“I don’t know what I think, Toph,” he said slowly, something burning in his eyes behind a forced, restraining calm “but I also know it doesn’t matter, because we can’t get any Earth kingdom armies because the Earth King was essentially a useless pawn, and he decided he wanted to travel the world with his weird, plain _bear-creature_. So what I _think_ is that this is the only thing we can do, and that it has to be enough, or we’re doomed.” 

Sokka breathed heavily and brought his hands up to his forehead, while Toph looked stunned – Sokka hadn’t raised his voice, but this was the closest she had heard to Sokka losing his composure, even going so far as to lash out against the Earth King, who, granted, was pretty useless, but kind to them, at the very least. 

“Sorry,” he said, sounding frustrated, “sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out - ”

“No, it’s good,” Katara interrupted, “now at least I know you cared a little bit about him, even if it was just so he could save the world and then you could go off and be happy with Suki or whatever - ”

“You think I’m doing all of this just so I can be with some girl that I like?” Sokka asked, anger blooming in his voice again, “you think I don’t care about you, or Toph, or Dad, or any of our friends, or the whole world!?”

“I don’t know what I think, Sokka,” Katara returned nastily, glancing at her nails as though to give off some impression of indifference. 

“Katara,” Sokka breathed out, “you _know_ I care about everyone, and that I cared about Aang, not just as the Avatar, but as my friend. But someone had to keep us together. Isn’t that what you said, in the desert? Last time, we relied on you to be the strong one. But no one can be strong all the time. So, it’s my turn now.”

Katara’s hands trembled as she fidgeted with them in her lap, and tears stung her eyes for the umpteenth time in a countless number of days. She threw her hands up to cover her eyes, scrunching them closed as though that could stop the flow of her tears. Sokka looked uncomfortable yet again, but reached over to rub her back. Katara, for once, made no effort to knock his hand away. Toph averted her eyes; although she couldn’t see the intimacy of the scene, she knew it was a private moment and pretended to be interested in her toenails. 

The sudden jolt of the ship brought them back to themselves. 

“What was that!?” Toph asked, startled. 

“I’m not sure,” Sokka responded grimly as he picked up his boomerang, which had fallen on the ground, “but I don’t think we’re going to like it.”

“What could be the problem?” Katara muttered, rising when Sokka did so. “Your plan was perfect – capture a single Fire Nation ship and blend in; no one should be bothering us.”

Sokka frowned, clearly in agreement, but he, Katara, and Toph made their way to the upper levels immediately.

Hakoda was standing at the front – another Fire Nation ship was approaching and he was squinting at them, clearly grimacing at this development. He turned back and noticed his children and Toph staring at him. He sighed.

“Everybody just stay calm,” he commanded, directing his gaze at all members aboard while he put on his helmet. “Bato and I will take care of this.”

Sokka directed Katara and Toph to a hide-away square hole in the floor, still peering at the members aboard the approaching ship but remaining out of sight. As the moments stretched onwards, like a strip of rubber to be used for a slingshot, Sokka closed his eyes while his head pounded. He was hoping, praying, that all would go to plan. Aang’s death not only took an emotional toll, but the staggering fall in physical ability was also immediately noticeable. Even if Aang had been weakened by Azula’s blow, he still would have been able to take out a whole Fire Nation ship with little difficulty. Sokka opened his eyes again as the footsteps neared. The crew from the other ship was boarding.

“Commander, why are you off course?” The officious captain glared at Hakoda with his nose in the air, like he was that much above them all. “All Western Fleet ships are supposed to be moving toward Ba Sing Se to support the occupation!”

“Actually, we’re from the Eastern Fleet. We have orders to deliver some cargo,” Hakoda replied calmly.

“Ah, the Eastern Fleet! Well, great, nice of Admiral Chan to let us know he was sending one of his ships our way,” the captain groused loudly. 

“I’m sure Admiral Chan meant no disrespect, sir,” Bato stated, looking regretful. 

“I mean, how hard is it to send a hawk our way with a message?” 

“Next time, we’ll be sure to send two hawks to make sure you receive the message,” Hakoda responded quickly, glancing at Bato and nodding as if to confirm this for future course of action.

The captain demurred, peering around dubiously, but eventually bowed, as did Hakoda. He then turned to exit, while the guard alongside him frowned and leaned in to whisper to the captain. 

“Sir, Admiral Chan has been on leave for two months at Ember Island.” The guard looked back nervously. 

“What? Why doesn't anyone ever tell me anything? Something's not right – they should have known that,” the captain exclaimed, leaning in to the guard and whispering, “I think this is a captured ship. Just stay quiet until we're safely across the ramp. Then, we'll sink this ship.”

Toph, who had been listening closely and holding her breath, widened her eyes at this proclamation. She jumped out of the hideout and immediately and turned to Hakoda.

“They know!” she yelled.

Toph immediately moved to metalbend the bridge between the ships so that it was unusable. The captain gave a shout, but he and the guard fell into the water immediately. Katara took a steady stance, feet shoulder-width apart, and raised her arms up quickly, creating a huge wave between the two ships. She then drew her arms back toward her body, elbows pushing backward, to separate their ship from the Fire Nation one. Sokka could see the captain and his guard attempt to climb the ladder on the side of their ship, but he paid no further notice – he instead hurried over to Hakoda, nearly tripping on his feet, ready to help steer the ship away. 

They attempted to drive the ship out of the Fire Nation ship’s reach, but were quickly halted by the projectiles – the second ship began firing consistently at the hull of the their stolen one, and Hakoda was sweating just trying to dodge every shot.

“We need to take out the catapults!” Sokka yelled at Toph. “Pipsqueak, help her out!”

Toph took her stable, earthbending stance while Pipsqueak dropped a boulder in front of her. Toph immediately shot it straight out in front of her in a flawless parabolic arc; it was a shame, really, Sokka thought, that she couldn’t see how it landed squarely on the other ship’s catapult. The others helped to fight back as well, using the rocks that Toph was earthbending at the other ship. 

“Fireball!” Katara yelled at Toph and Pipsqueak, backing up so they had their room. The Duke, standing by Pipsqueak, turned Toph toward the trajectory of the fireball, raising her hands up to the position from which it was approaching. Toph nodded wordlessly, memorizing the path, and knocked The Duke’s hands away with little fanfare. She shot a sharp piece of earth straight at the fireball in the air, intercepting it before it crashed into the front of the ship. 

“Good, you got it!” Sokka yelled back at Toph in encouragement. 

_This was going fairly well, for an attack,_ he thought to himself. Of course, this was the exact moment fate realigned itself, just to prove Sokka wrong. A harpoon was fired and hit the bottom of the ship, springing a heavy leak. Katara immediately froze the water to plug the hole, and created some cover with mist surrounding their ship to prevent it from happening again. But the mist just made it difficult for the other ship to prudently calculate their target point – they continued to fire in their direction aimlessly, and without the warning of another fireball, Toph could not be warned quickly enough. The fireball landed – right on top of the pile of rocks that Toph was using for ammunition. Katara drew waves of water onto the blaze immediately, but the rocks were shattered into tiny pieces and scattered everywhere. 

“What do we do now?” Pipsqueak asked Sokka, scratching his head and eyeing the sky nervously.

“Uhh,” Sokka said eloquently, waiting for words to catch up to his frantic brain, “gather what you can of the rocks; get Toph to earthbend the pieces into a massive boulder again. Katara will be on fireball duty!”

No sooner than when he stated the words did another two fireballs soar downward from the sky, straight onto the deck of the ship. Katara subsequently moved to extinguish the fire with another wave of water, but it was getting difficult for her to keep up with the continuous onslaught while also ensuring the ship wasn’t leaking. 

“How are we doing? Is it working?” Toph asked Sokka, eyes wide.

Sokka took a deep breath and turned to Toph, before very honestly stating: “Frankly, I don’t see how things could get worse.” 

As if in response to Sokka’s definitive words, the serpent rose from the waters near the ship, clearly disturbed by the maelstrom caused by the two ships. 

“The universe just loves proving me wrong, doesn’t it?” Sokka screeched in horror, drawing back from the side of the ship with the serpent. 

“You make it too easy,” Toph grumbled, still working on gathering the mass of earth together, “you should seriously just consider keeping your mouth shut.”

“Wait – wait! The universe has proved me wrong yet again, but in a way that’s actually good this time!” Sokka called back excitedly.

The arbitrary aiming of the other ship finally got the better of them – a fireball from their catapult hit the serpent in the neck, and the serpent, shrieking with rage, wrapped itself around the Fire Nation ship as if to drag it down into the water. Taking this as the good, serendipitous omen that it was, Sokka rushed over to help Hakoda steer the ship to safety, all while thanking the universe profusely. 

***

The attack certainly took a lot out of everyone, so the group felt justified when stopping by a nearby port in a town for dinner. When Sokka entered Toph and Katara’s room, with Katara brushing her hair and Toph lying on her bed lazily, he cleared his throat and tried to sound enthusiastic, to keep the good mood going. 

“Hey! Are you guys ready to head out for dinner?” he asked. “I hear good things about this one place by the docks!”

“You could hear bad things about any place, Sokka, and you’d still force us there just to try some gross new food,” Toph sighed.

“Hey now, that is – unreasonably true,” Sokka admitted, but tilted his head up with exaggerated pride, “but have you ever regretted listening to me?”

Toph almost broke into a small smile, clearly about to hit back with a snarky comment, but Katara cut through. 

“Well, there was the time you thought it was a good idea to have the team split up in Ba Sing Se for our personal ‘journeys’, which was the beginning of the end, so to speak,” Katara muttered irritably. Dead silence followed her words. She had spoken them very quietly, but Toph obviously heard them, even from across the room, and Sokka was close enough to make out what had been said. He breathed in. He thought their conversation before the attack might have cleared the air a little bit, but he should have known better. He knew that this wasn’t how death worked. 

Death pervaded the air like a cloying perfume, shoving itself unceremoniously down people’s throats at all times until they felt like it was the only thing they could breathe anymore, the only thing that existed anymore. Any words were useless in its unrelenting onslaught; any barriers could not halt its mocking, lingering feeling in its tracks. Any vacuums that tried to remove the scent, any new perfumes to take away the rotting smell, any masks worn to prevent the stinging it brought to one’s eyes – they were all a disrespect to the death that had taken place. No, the miasma of death was a necessary justice brought to those surrounding the death, just to make them suffer for what had taken place. They deserved it, after all.

If Sokka were a fully-matured adult, well past eighteen years (at least) and experienced in maneuvering through the intricacies of therapy, grief management, and the convoluted feelings that come with loss, he would have had many profound things to say to Katara, and many supportive, accommodating actions to help her get through this, along with Toph and all the others. 

But Sokka was only fifteen years old, a scant year older than Katara, and he was tired. 

He closed his eyes. Truly, it had only been a few weeks since Aang’s death, but he was just about at his wit’s end with Katara. Literally anything he said ended up with a vicious attack on his person or a vitriolic comment on his previous actions. 

“Katara, do you blame me?” Sokka demanded lowly, voice carefully filled with placidity that belied its true danger. “Do you think it’s my fault that Aang is dead? Because he is dead, you know, as you keep reminding us all – thanks, by the way. We had all totally forgotten.” 

Katara glared back at him, frustrated.

“Well, you could have fooled me. You’re just as you always are.”

“What, you mean my comments? My sarcasm?” Sokka asked. “Because that’s a part of who I am, and this has changed me, it has, but jokes are one of the only things that I feel like I can do anymore to keep us out of this depressing slump. Do you not want me to be happy ever again? Is that it?”

Katara’s look of frustration subsequently melted into startled, confused surprise.

“N-No, of course no- that’s not what I meant, Sokka, I just - ”

“You just what? Want everyone to throw around passive-aggressive comments all the time, like you do? Because that’s so useful?”

“How are your jokes useful?”

“Toph almost smiled for the first time in _weeks_ , just then!” Sokka yelled, finally raising his voice. Toph immediately shrunk back at the sudden volume and looked away, growing overly conscious of herself. Katara glanced in the corner where she was sitting and frowned, while Sokka continued.

“You don’t think it’s strange that she barely speaks anymore? That she’s not the – the _firecracker_ – that we met a short while ago? You don’t think it’s strange that you keep pushing everyone away, when before, you were the one preaching about hope and pulling us all closer together? You don’t think it’s strange that I choose to spend more time with Dad and Bato, because I feel like I can’t goof around anymore?” Sokka took a deep breath. Toph took the opportunity to scowl in their direction, clearly put out by the way this argument was going.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” she said moodily, “and I’m no shrinking violet either, I just don’t like talking that much now.”

“Exactly,” Sokka sighed, “but nothing was stopping you before; you said everything on your mind, all the time. You’re all so afraid to admit you’ve changed. It’s okay to be upset, but not when it obstructs us from moving forward. _Aang_ wanted us to move forward. I know you don’t like talking about him anymore, but _this_ is what it means not to forget him. He was so worried he failed us. So now we need to show him that we are going to succeed.”

Katara stared at him. She wasn’t crying this time, but it looked like something fundamental had shifted in her eyes – the use of some of Aang’s last words, his anxiety at having failed – it was one of the things that bothered her the most, Sokka knew this. Aang brought so much optimism to everyone, and he was just a child that was trying _so hard_ to right the wrongs set by avaricious, power-hungry megalomaniacs over a century ago. And he thought it was his fault that it would continue to happen, that it was inevitable that it would continue to happen. 

So it was up to them to prove him wrong, in the best way possible: by defeating the Fire Lord. For him, in his memory, so that he could truly rest in peace.

Katara did not make another childish comment at Sokka, or snap at him. She nodded, and apologized quietly, looking to the floor. Toph had her arms crossed earlier, but she removed herself from the uptight position and she too seemed more determinedly persistent, and less like a quiet afterthought in the background. 

Sokka took in the scene – his previous cheer had dissipated with this blow-up, although it was clearly worth it, seeing how things had cleared up. He could let things be, but he wanted to nip this in the bud. He didn’t want anyone to feel like they needed to let go of Aang, but they needed to move forward as well. So, he addressed Katara one last time.

“I think I understand why any sign of happiness bothers you so much,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking at her. “You don’t want people to think we failed. That Aang failed the people of the world, or that you failed in protecting him.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Katara said, looking back intently, “but the problem is, I did. I did fail.”

“That’s not true!” Sokka interrupted. Even Toph looked up at them and snorted.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Sugar Queen.” Toph was almost impassive in her response, gazing at her nails. Sokka was surprised that she pulled out Katara’s long-hated nickname – a term she hadn’t used since the group had all been together – although they recognized it now to be a term of fondness, in Toph’s language. “You think you’re the only one who could have saved Aang? What about me? I was stupid enough to fall into that dumb trap set up by those idiots my parents hired, so I took too long to figure out something was wrong here. Sokka didn’t want to leave your Dad, so he took longer than he should have to return. The Earth King was a tool who should have screened his guards better, so Azula couldn’t have taken over. The beggar on the street corner in the district right next to the catacombs should have contacted the palace immediately when he noticed people being dragged into it out of nowhere! It’s either all our faults, or it’s nobody’s fault. So get over yourself.”

Katara blinked, stunned at the sudden onslaught of words. Sokka was shocked too, but he nodded – Toph was right, even if the words seemed harsh.

“She’s right – she could have been a bit nicer about it,” Sokka said, sounding annoyed and tossing a look at Toph, even though he was secretly glad she seemed a little more like herself, “but she’s right.”

Katara frowned.

“But I was there! I was in the catacombs, with Aang, and none of you were. I was there! But I lost. And now the Earth Kingdom has fallen for good.”

“It’s not for good,” Sokka insisted, “there’s still the invasion! And Katara, you’re being way too harsh on yourself – remember, you were up against Azula, and Zuko, not to mention a whole bunch of Dai Li who showed up out of nowhere to align themselves with Azula! Honestly, if you managed to take them all down, I would bow down to you as the new Avatar.”

Maybe it was still too soon for that kind of joke, Sokka realized with a wince, as grief pervaded his mind while Katara inhaled sharply and Toph looked down. 

“I hate the invasion plan,” Katara said suddenly, moodily, “I hate that we all have to risk our lives like this – rushing into the Fire Nation without the Avatar – to fix my mistake. I always knew we would have to face the Fire Lord – but now I know we have to face him alone, without Aang, and it’s because I wasn’t good enough to save him then.” 

“Katara,” Sokka tried consoling her again.

“Just leave, Sokka,” Katara said, pressing the palms of her hands to her forehead as if to suppress a long-lasting headache, “please. Toph, you should go have dinner with him, too.” 

“Is there anything you need?” Sokka asked while rising from his spot, resigned. 

“I need to redeem myself. I need … my honour back.” Katara gazed up at Sokka with intense determination after making the impassioned statement, calmly clasping her hands together in her lap. Yes, Katara was definitely done crying. Her emotions had shifted in a new direction now. 

***

Sokka made his way up the ship’s levels with Toph – he sensed that there would be no more trouble with Katara’s nasty comments, but he was worried about the calmly burning fury in her eyes, a look that promised retribution for Aang. 

While having transpired long ago, their mother’s death still affected them to this day – Katara, more than Sokka. Kya’s sacrifice for her would always be cemented in Katara’s mind, and he knew that still Katara was not satisfied with the way things had turned out, and she wouldn’t be until she found the man responsible for her death. With Aang’s appearance in the iceberg, Katara’s mournful days as a waterbending peasant grieving for her dead mother in an equally dead town seemed to come to a close. While Sokka would be proud of his roots until the day he died, he could admit that his home was a dead-end. The scars the Fire Nation left behind were too vicious for recovery – at least, it wouldn’t be feasible in his lifetime. So, Katara was left to stew in guilt and anger and fear for too many years, without any distraction or privacy, because there was nothing else left there. Everyone in town knew of her waterbending and understood what Kya did. Aang took her mind off of it, and Sokka saw her begin to heal. He saw her become the caring, considerate, strong figure that their mother was, as the negativity of promised revenge left her mind and a healthier goal of helping others save the world blossomed in her.

But now, Aang was gone. Taken from her, like their mother. And Katara was reverting back.

Sokka’s troubled expression must have shown on his face, as Hakoda stopped him and Toph from stepping off the deck.

“What’s wrong?” Hakoda asked. Sokka glanced back and huffed.

“In a word? Katara,” Sokka admitted. “I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I would, you know, try to help – but things haven’t been the best between us either,” Hakoda confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Maybe you could talk to her now? She, ah, might be more amenable to responding positively – in a way,” Sokka said evasively.

Hakoda frowned.

“If you say so,” he responded dubiously, “I’ll give it another shot.”

Sokka left him to it, while he and Toph exited to give themselves at least one moment’s peace.

***

Hakoda entered the lower levels and knocked hesitantly on Katara’s door.

“Katara? Just checking up on you, I noticed that you didn’t leave with Sokka and Toph, but you still need to eat something. Can I come in?”

The door swung open in response, and Katara turned back to sit on her bed nonchalantly. Her eyes were set and her face was calm, but Hakoda knew his daughter.

“What’s wrong, Katara?” he asked softly. Katara looked incredulous at that, so Hakoda amended his statement.

“I know what’s wrong, but I meant, which specific thought is bothering you?” he huffed.

“He left,” Katara said suddenly.

“What?”

“Aang! He just – he just showed up, thinking the Avatar State would save us all, and he was supposed to stay alive, but he left! He died! He had this ridiculous notion that saving the world was all his responsibility, that he had to do it alone with his own _transcendental_ power, but it wasn’t enough! He locked himself up in this little crystal tent, and all I could do was watch!”

“Maybe that was his way of being brave,” Hakoda said, having the feeling he knew where this was going.

“It's not brave, it was selfish and stupid! We could have – _I could have helped him_ and I know the world needed him and we were kind of losing the fight for a while there, but help was on the way and _didn’t he know how much we needed him, too? How could he just leave us behind?”_

Hakoda paused.

“You’re talking about me, too, aren’t you?”

Katara finally gave in, covering her face with her hands. 

“How could you leave us, Dad? I mean, I know we had Gran-Gran, and she loved us, but we were just so lost without you.”

“I’m so sorry, Katara,” Hakoda breathed quietly, embracing her gently. 

“I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry and hurt! And we’re reunited now, but how does that mean anything?” Katara proclaimed, voice muffled in her father’s chest. “I was with Aang the whole time, and he still died! So what’s the difference? You’re probably just going to leave me again, too, like everyone else.”

“I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache,” he whispered into her hair, “and I promise, for as long as I live, I will do everything in my power to live, _for you_.”

***

“Perhaps you need a break,” Hakoda announced, upon Toph and Sokka’s return to the ship. Katara was sitting by her father on the deck, Sokka noticed, so clearly the conversation had gone well. 

“A break? From what? To where?” Sokka questioned, having an inkling of where this was headed. 

“We have … much to do,” Hakoda said, “and I know we have your help. We could not have made it this far without all your work. But a ship is a difficult place to keep up your training, and our main mission now is to pick up all our allies from around the globe. You all, ah, tend to stick out a little, to be perfectly honest, so you might even make that a bit difficult.”

Sokka nodded, understanding. This was their Dad’s way of giving them an out, giving them a time to heal on their own, without having the raw reminder of Aang thrown in their faces every time a new ally stepped on board, devastated to hear the news and demanding an explanation. This was their time to regroup, find themselves again, be ‘Team Avatar’, as Sokka had named them unofficially. And if they could use this time to train, to find more allies, to pick up more information about the Fire Nation – well, that would be a bonus. 

“What about the invasion?” Toph asked, completely surprised. 

“We’ll join up with my dad and the invasion force the day of the eclipse,” Sokka decided, looking up to Hakoda for approval, who nodded back at him, smiling with a tinge of sadness. 

“Off you go, then,” Hakoda said softly, “please be careful; I love you and your sister both, so much.”

“You too, Dad,” Katara added, rising from her place and smiling softly – her eyes still had the same bite as they did earlier, Sokka noted, but she seemed better now. 

They left to gather their things, and Sokka split off from Toph and Katara to head to his own room. He put his necessary clothes in a bag, a few books and maps he chose to permanently borrow from the desert library, and looked back at his room. He stepped into the hall, glanced both ways for a second, and then stepped back into his room, opening his closet.

Inside lay Aang’s staff, pristine and unusable. Sokka tapped it against the ground, watching the glider open up, spread wide like a bird’s wings. He hesitated, making to leave it behind, but shook his head, shoving it into one of the long bags holding the tents and tent poles. It wouldn’t feel right to leave it behind, he decided. 

***

Elsewhere, Zuko rested on his bed, although he felt anything but restful. His mind turned over and over, like the tumultuous blizzard turning over snowbanks in the North Pole not too long ago – a time he wished not to return to again, although his mind kept taking him there for some reason. 

For all intents and purposes, he should be happy – he knew that much. Upon arrival, he had reunited with his childhood love, Mai, and he felt immense relief. She looked a bit wary at first, but warmed to him upon noting the reactions of his people, the people of the Fire Nation. They looked overjoyed to see him return, to see the completion of the tale of the banished prince who learned his lesson and returned with newfound respect for his father. 

(The slow-build of dull discomfort in his stomach was just anticipation, surely, for Zuko was excited to see his father once more, after all these years.)

Zuko recalled the praises sung to Azula, the accolades thrown upon her and recognition heaped on her by Li and Lo. Clever and beautiful, they called her, a victorious hero who almost single-handedly (with some perfunctory assistance from Zuko, of course) brought down the walls of Ba Sing Se and the delicate construction of the Earth Kingdom. He wasn’t expecting anything much for himself, of course, but it was still somewhat gratifying to hear the cheers of the crowd upon announcement of his return.

He smiled then, grateful that his people had not forgotten him, that they still cared for him despite his shameful exit three years ago. That was at least one aspect of his return that brought him some peace.

As if to disturb the somewhat-settled, transient peace of his mind, he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called, sitting up. Azula walked in the room, eyes glittering calculatingly, although a friendly smile was still painted on her face. Her favourite expression, Zuko noted, also happened to be his least favourite. 

“Zuzu! So good to see you back in your old room, after all these years,” she gushed.

“Don’t call me Zuzu,” Zuko responded immediately, scowling. Azula rolled her eyes, still smiling prettily. 

“You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already? Though actually, Mai has been in a strangely good mood lately – although I’m certain you would know why,” she said, raising her eyebrows. Zuko looked away.

“I haven't seen Dad yet. I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished.” Zuko was honest with his words. Being honest with Azula, in his experience, was always a mistake – but in this instance, he couldn’t help but admit his fear. “I didn’t capture the Avatar.”

“Who cares? The Avatar is dead, and you helped end him – don’t be such a drama queen,” Azula said, rolling her eyes again, “unless you think he somehow survived?”

Zuko flashed back to his memory of Katara, her and her vial of spirit water. He frowned. No amount of spirit water could bring back the dead, could it?

“Well,” he hedged out, “I don’t think so, but the water tribe girl – she had a vial of spirit water from the North Pole. It’s said to have mystical healing properties. I’m almost certain she would have used it on the Avatar.”

Azula sighed.

“Oh, Zuzu, you never did pay attention in school, did you? Healing properties of the spirit pond are limited to anything from a paper cut to a life-threatening injury. A bolt of lightning to the spine and surrounding nerves would be immediate death. And the dead cannot be brought back,” she added unnecessarily, as though Zuko was unaware that death was permanent.

“If you say so,” Zuko said, deflating. He was glad to hear the news. The drop in his stomach was merely the release of fear, nothing else. He was free from the burden his father had set upon him; the deed was done, and it was over. 

“I do,” Azula announced, smirking and turning to leave his room, “and I’d love to stay and chat, but Father wishes to see you and I know you were looking forward to an emotional reunion.”

With that, Azula turned and left, while Zuko took halting breaths and stepped out to make his way to the throne room of the Royal Palace. 

***

He walked and walked with building anticipation, his time away doing nothing to take away the memory of the path from his room to the main foyer. No, he was certain he wouldn’t forget this walk for a long time. After long last, he opened the door with trembling hands and looked up to see the imposing face of his father, Fire Lord Ozai. 

Ozai stepped forward in slow paces, apparently unaware of the effect that halting steps had on Zuko’s fluctuating levels of apprehension. Or maybe, Ozai was entirely aware. 

Finally, he was directly in front of Zuko.

“You've been away for a long time. I see the weight of your travels has changed you. You have redeemed yourself, my son. Welcome home.”

With those words, it was as though the weight of the world was lifted from Zuko’s shoulders. _Redemption_. He had done it.

“I am proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because you and your sister conquered Ba Sing Se. I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor.”

Zuko’s pride continued to soar, his breaths returning to a normal pace, but then – 

“However, I am not proud of how it had to be done. Azula told me everything. Her men, the witnesses – they were amazed and impressed at her power and ferocity at the moment of truth, but you were not the one who slayed the Avatar. You could not capture him without your sister’s involvement. You were unable to achieve this task on your own.

“I do admit, though, that you were able to follow her instruction to great effect. Azula – she is truly remarkable, one of a kind, as I’m certain you know. While she had to guide you, tell you what moves to make, you were at least able to do so much, and do the right thing. So your efforts are … _appreciated_ , if not lauded. You would make a good foot-soldier, which I suppose has its uses, and she implored that I consider your future in this way. She truly does care for you. You have her to thank for such a stellar review.

“Nonetheless, she has convinced me of your worth, and you truly deserve this place back home.”

With that Ozai nodded, and turned away, back facing Zuko. 

Zuko nodded, recognizing this for dismissal. He gritted his teeth as he left; of course, Azula would tell their father the truth, he was expecting that much, but to downplay his role was so – _exactly like her_. Of course she would imply that she had to tell Zuko exactly how to attack, where to throw his blasts of fire, like he was some sort of child. Of course she wouldn’t tell Father that the water tribe girl was getting the best of her, had it not been for Zuko stepping in, stalling until Aang showed up with no back-up or defenses. 

Sure enough, as he turned the corner, Azula was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and smirking. 

“You downplayed my role,” Zuko growled. 

“What makes you say that?” Azula asked mischievously. “I did most of the work, after all.”

“That’s true.” Zuko was loath to admit this, but he had always been honest. “But you made it sound different than from what it was. I know this is what you always do, but you could have just lied about the whole thing, then. Why even bother to include me in this story?”

“Can’t this wait until morning?” Azula sighed, looking put upon. 

“It. Can’t.” Zuko said, frustrated. She sighed. 

“Call it a generous gesture. I wanted to thank you for your help and I was happy to share the glory,” she said, eyes wide. 

“You’re lying.”

“Believe what you want,” she said, turning to walk away.

“You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is.”

“Please, Zuko, what ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you feel some glory for helping to defeat the Avatar?” Azula drew close to Zuko, placing a seemingly comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Unless, somehow, it was made to sound as though you had to listen to my every word to get the job done. All that glory suddenly transforms to subservient directive-following, the kind found in all our none-too-special soldiers. Father might rethink the position of Heir to the Throne, then; after all, the Fire Lord must be commanding and brilliant.” Azula’s hands moved with a flourish, as if to emphasize her words. “And who could a Fire Lord trust more to take care of all her – pardon, his or her – affairs than a relative? Imagine that, having the great honour of listening to the Fire Lord’s _every command_.”

Her voice was soft, but her words were sharp, cutting Zuko to pieces with their precision. 

“Some would view that role with great pride, but some might say it would be humiliating for a sibling once fated for the throne – all that potential for power redirected to shame. Ah, well, any position in the Royal Family is honourable, is it not?” Azula smiled at the dumbstruck expression on Zuko’s face.

“Sleep well, Zuzu.” With that, Azula patted his cheek patronizingly and left, leaving Zuko alone in the long shadows of the empty palace corridor once more.

Zuko swallowed. 

He remembered, then, from months ago, some words spoken upon his arrival to the Earth Kingdom – his arrival with his dear Uncle Iroh. It hurt to think about him nowadays, but in that recent past, Zuko was grateful for his presence, an understanding figure with whom he could share his woes. 

_“If the Earth Kingdom finds us, they’ll have us killed!” Zuko said._

_“But if the Fire Nation finds us, they’ll hand us over to Azula,” Uncle Iroh pointed out wisely, eyes glittering._

_“…Earth Kingdom it is.”_

Zuko almost smiled at the memory – at the time, he had been holding back a laugh; it was frankly absurd how they considered being under the control of Azula a fate worse than death. But his uncle had readily agreed, going with him without a word of objection, and they clung to their strange amusement as they entered the dangerous Earth Kingdom territory. 

Then, words from recent conversation began creeping in – “traitorous uncle” coming to mind very quickly – and Zuko lost his faint smile. 

_Such irony_ , Zuko mused, _was generally only observed in great novels_. 

Now, Azula had made it clear that she had set up a situation in which Zuko would be completely at her mercy for an indefinite period of time – for the rest of his natural life, if things went according to her plan, as they usually did. And Zuko had fallen right into her hands, despite the fact that the Earth Kingdom had been his measure to prevent that. Ironic. 

Not for the first time, doubt and guilt burgeoned in his thoughts, and Zuko was forced to banish them, hoping they could become no more than vague vestiges in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave any review/commentary if you can, they are much appreciated. In case you were wondering about the changes, here are my thoughts/explanations:
> 
> First of all, a bunch of dialogue is taken from the S3E1 transcript, "The Awakening", if you were wondering why some parts sounded familiar. However, I've switched up some roles in the dialogue and added my own parts to make it more situationally appropriate. For example, a lot of Katara's dialogue with Sokka after the ship attack is from what Katara said to Aang. I feel that if Aang died, Katara would shoulder the blame the most because she was there with him. 
> 
> Another thing that changes is Azula vs. Zuko. Azula has been established to be one step ahead, at all times. I was originally considering the idea of leaving them clueless (i.e. Zuko thinks the Avatar survived, Azula gives him the credit), but I believe Azula would know if Aang was dead or alive. In canon, it's never established how she "knew" Aang was alive; she only suspected it. Perhaps she saw the spirit water around Katara's neck and understands the properties, who knows. In the Book 2 finale, Aang is not dead after being shot by lightning, so the water could save him - but if he is undeniably dead after the bolt, then nothing could bring him back to life for good. And I think Azula would know that, given how ahead she always is. Because she would never attempt murder and then subsequently not confirm their death, if she truly wanted someone dead.
> 
> Thus, if Azula is sure Aang is dead, then she would want the credit for killing him. In canon, she gives Zuko the credit because he would look foolish when Aang turned out to be alive and it would bring him shame, as she knows. But if he was actually killed, then she would want credit, because it would make her look good to Ozai and has the added effect of making Zuko look bad - she managed in a few months what he couldn't do in a few years. It brings yet another tinge of patronizing glory to Azula for her to lord over Zuko's head.
> 
> Anyway, those are some of my interpretations, looking forward to hearing any thoughts. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the beginning of this. If Aang had died at this moment, I believe a lot of key elements would have changed in Book 3, so here is my take on how it could have gone. Comments/reviews are appreciated!


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